Keep Watching over Durin's Sons
by ArkhamGirl
Summary: "Just like you I am part of Durin's Folk and, by Mahal, I will fight to the end to reclaim what's ours!" Ilvì had gone through a lot in her long dwarf-live and one of those dark days contained being deprived of her father and her home, Erebor. So when her king Thorin Oakenshield calls for help to retake the Lonely Mountain, she does not hesitate to volunteer... (ThorinXOC)
1. Prologue

**_Author's Note: Hey there :) This story was kinda stuck to my mind since I watched the BOTFA in December (several times of course :P), sooo I finally decided to put it down on paper... or my iPad... whatever... ^_^ Hope you will enjoy this one!_**

**_R&amp;R!_**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**_10th October, TA 2941_**

The axe's blade found its way down the orc's skull easily as if it was cutting through air. Pulling it out, however, was a completely different story. Ilvì tugged at it, but before it could even move a bit, she got attacked by another goblin, whose jagged sword she dodged swiftly. She let her second weapon slit over the dark creature's chest, making it spun around screeching, placed her foot on the shoulder of the first one and kicked out, so that its limp body was thrown backwards and the axe free from its fetid flesh.

"Ilvì!"

Panting, she turned around, trying to find the source of the commanding voice in the thick of the fight. There she spotted Thorin Oakenshield, sitting on a ram. He was just as covered with the blood of his enemies as she was, even though he had only just joined the battle. He must have slain douzens of orcs already and now he was up to finish off a very special one, as she could tell from his impatient nod towards the Ravenhill, where Azog the Defiler still navigated his army from. On the back of this strong ram, they would ride up to the pale orc and while she and probably some of the other dwarves of the company covered his back, Thorin would kill Azog. Once and for all.

Ilvì nodded and started to sprint towards him, though, suddenly another familiar voice cried out her name.

Bor, her brother, was just knocking an opponent down with his hammer, roaring, as he looked at her again. "They're still in there!", he screamed across the battlefield, pointing at Dale. "We have to get them out of there or they'll die! NOW!"

Shocked, she looked from Bor to Thorin and back. She didn't know what to do. Following her brother would mean to let_ him _down. Again. She had already turned her back on Thorin once, her king, her leader, her One... And now she was forced to do it again.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I am sorry it took me so long to update! I was having a few shootings, but I think most of the filming work is done now ^_^ sooooo I can finally dedicate myself to making some progress with this (and some more :P) fanfic :)**_

* * *

**Months before...**

It only needed one strong gust of wind to yank the map up into the air, where it performed a few loops until it landed on the muddy ground with a spalsh. A curse cut through the silence of the night, as she ran up to the map and picked it up. Grimacing and sighing, she wiped off the dirt from the thick parchment, before holding it up to the moonlight again. She could hardly recognise anything on it, especially now that it was wet and full of stains.

For several hours already she wandered about this unfamiliar environment, getting lost every now and then, despite the explicit inscriptions and lines of black ink she constantly studied.

"'You'll have no problems finding it.'", she mimicked the deep voice of the tall wizard, who had spoken to her uncle about the meeting place, as she took a look around. In the daytime, this region called 'The Shire' must have been stunning, green grass and colourful flowers as far as the eyes could see, though, she'd only reached it on her pony when the sun had already set and in the dark, everything was of the same grey.

"Is somebody out there?", a high-pitched voice rang out suddenly, making her cringe and spin around.

Only now that she spotted the small woman at the round door, timidly staring into the darkness, she noticed that she was standing in the front yard of one of those hill-houses she'd seen douzens of on her way.

For a long moment she considered remaining in her frozen posture, not uttering a peep, so that the woman would give up on searching and go back inside, since she hated asking for directions. She didn't want anyone to know that she was lost, unable to find the way herself, despite map. However, she was aware that this could be her only chance to find the place Gandalf has told her uncle about on time, so she quickly plucked up all her courage, took a deep breath through her nose and stepped into the thin streak of yellow light that urged its way through the slightly opened door. "Good evening! I am sorry to disturb your peace in the house at such a late hour, but would you be so kind as to tell me where-"

The shocked looking hobbit woman abruptly interrupted her by slamming the door shut. A brief moment of silence followed, before her shaky voice sounded again: "There's nobody home!"

"...Alright..." Apparently, this woman was not very fond of nocturnal visits of strangers, and although it was rude to not lend an ear to her after she'd put on her kindest smile, she couldn't even blame her for her actions. The kindest smile doesn't help one bit, if the rest of the face was obviously marked by the exhausting journey. She must have been a terrible sight for the small lady! And still was, as it seemed, since she was absolutely sure that the halfling was watching her through some peephole.

Sighing, she turned around and marched out of the front yard and down the path towards the pony she had left there standing. Getting hold of the reins, she let the map disappear in her thick cloak again and continued leading the animal over the road lightened by the pale shimmer of the moon.

If she'd only come here earlier, not wasting time with resting, then it wouldn't be so damn hard to find that meeting place. But no, she didn't want to be the first one there, wanted to avoid the awkward silence that spread between strangers until someone of her kin would join them. Turning up as last of all would made her feel uncomfortable as well. The golden mean was what she had been aiming for. Now, though... it looked like she would come too late anyway. She wouldn't be part of this meeting at all. All would be for nothing.

She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide.

Ponies... At least ten ponies lined up directly in front of another one of those round doors on a hill not far away. That could be it. It had to be it. She hadn't seen any other ponies on her way, so, seemingly, they weren't that common for hobbits. They must belong to the dwarves attending the meeting.

Excitement began to rush through her veins and a smile spread over her face. Drawing in the reins, she said: "Come on, Rumples, we found it!" and hastily headed towards the hill.

She tied Rumples down next to the other miniature horses, scurried through the garden gate und the small stairway up to the door the moon was painting with its silver light. Already in approaching it, she noticed the mark Gandalf must have fixed to it, the mark he had told her uncle about, the mark that left no doubt. Beaming by the thrill of anticipation she came to a stand, lifting her fist to knock on that door she had been searching for so long, when she suddenly paused.

She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of food that came from inside, making her stomach grumble, since she hadn't eaten anything in a while. Also, she perceived various voices from inside, deep ones, high-pitched ones, voices with a strong accent... but none of them was familiar to her.

Slowly the euphoria changed into nervousness. She most probably didn't know any of these dwarves. Would she be welcome at all? Would they let her explain? Maybe she should wait for someone coming out...

Nonsense! She hadn't made the long way from the Blue Mountains to this meeting to chicken out now.

Taking a deep breath, she looked straightforward again, shoved all bad thoughts aside and knocked at the door. All of a sudden, all voices fell silent. Rumbling was to hear instead, hurried footsteps, until those sounds hushed as well.

It was a hobbit with ruffled golden brown hair - probably the one the wizard had spoken about - that finally opened the door, a look of annoyance on his face, however, that look changed entirely once he laid eyes on her. He seemed completely taken aback, just like the numerous dwarves she noticed standing behind him and even Gandalf the Grey, who towered above them all, frowned in confusion, as they were staring at the beardless dwarf woman with the soft features.

To make it easier for herself she fixed her eyes on those of her counterpart, adorned her face with a wide smile and bowed low. "Ilvì. At your service."


	3. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Thank you very much for your review Saddles ^^ I really need that kind of motivation to get things going :P Hope you all will like this chap, as it reveals a bit more of Ilvì's character.**_

_**R&amp;R!**_

* * *

It lasted seconds only, but it felt like an eternity. The moment of silence that had followed after she'd straightened herself again, made a sensation of such discomfort fill her entire body that it almost hurt. Still, she maintained her smile. At least her mouth, but if her eyes were able to aspirate a sound, they would scream now.

Finally, the halfling spoke up and although his tone was fairly quiet and soft, his voice cut through the tension in the air like a knife: "B-Bilbo Baggins..." He blinked a few times, before looking to the ground and stepping aside. "Please come in."

Ilvì gave him a polite nod and entered the hobbit hole.

The room was well-lit - its curved walls and ceiling beams almost seemed to suck in the warm tints the small chandelier in the middle emitted and to shine golden from within - so that all bewildered expressions around her were perfectly visible. The confusion here was so palpable, Ilvì considered catching it from the air and kick it through the round entrance, freeing herself from this torture of awkwardness.

However, someone else took care of that anyway.

"Ilvì?" A comparatively small dwarf with white hair that framed his face like a mane and a bulbous nose elbowed his way to her from the back row. "Tyrad's niece?"

At the sight of him she let out a sigh of relief - Ilvì hadn't even noticed that she had held her breath for a while now - and shone with gratitude. "Master Balin!" She quickly stepped forward to draw him into a short embrace, which made the dwarf wince. "I am so pleased to see you!"

"It is good to see you too. It's been quite a few years since I last visited your uncle's forge, hasn't it?"

"Tyrad the blacksmith is your uncle?", another one of the dwarves, a taller one, said and looked round, smiling under his red beard. "Ha! He crafted my son's first axe! An excellent weapon of the finest steel!"

An acknowledging murmur went through the room, once for all breaking the ice.

Balin frowned, yet having a cheerful expression on his face. "I did not know he would come as well."

There Ilvì's smile she had given the dwarf with the red hair slowly faded, as she turned to the smaller one again. "Oh, he..." She looked up at Gandalf to her right, who had his brows raised in curiosity. Ilvì bit her bottom lip and fixed her eyes at Balin's once more. "... He won't come." Before all happiness could vanish from the faces around, she quickly explained: "My uncle was taken sick a week ago, a constantly recurring illness that drains him of strength." Her sad tone changed into a more confident one, as the woman spoke almost swollen with pride: "Nonetheless, he wants my family to do its stint for this quest, which was why he sent me to join you in his place. I strongly hope his decision will be respected and find the approval of..." She looked around, searching for one certain face. "... our leader..."

"Our leader...", Balin interrupted her thoughts, making her look at him again. "... is not here to give his consent." He exchanged significant glances with Gandalf, before he gave Ilvì another bright smile. "Not yet. But he will be here soon. Up until then we bid you welcome to our group of guests of Master Baggins."

The woman gleamed with pleasure. "Wonderful!" In one quick motion of her hand she removed her cloak and tossed it over her shoulder at the hobbit behind her, who had just raised his finger and opened his mouth to object, but now got fully covered by the dark blue fabric. "Thank you, Master Baggins!" Just like she did it before knocking, Ilvì inhaled the delicious scent that had spread within these walls. "Mmm... I'm smelling gammon and beer..."

"Staple food!", a dwarf with a hat on his head shouted.

They all laughed and began to dispersed. Conversing, Balin lead Ilvì to the dining room, while both ignored Bilbo's irritated calls.

* * *

As they all gorged themselves on salt meat, cheese and plenty of other meals and drinks, joking and laughing, it felt like she'd never left the Blue Mountains. She would have expected the others to act more reserved around her, curbing their natural behaviour to some extent, but Ilvì didn't even have to tell them how much more she enjoyed the company of males than of females. They just treated her like one of them, which was perhaps down to the fact that they were all strangers in this uncommon environment, the same kin that shared similar experiences concerning their journey to and across this country, about which Ilvì was just telling two of her new acquaintances called Nori and Oin, whereat she constantly had to rectify things, since the old dwarf kept mishearing her. Though, she absolutely didn't mind doing that because she had a considerable amount of patience, particularly as she was puffing away on her pipe, casually tipping her chair back with her feet resting on the dining table.

When she finished her story, Nori said, shaking his head lightly: "I don't understand why this woman shied away from you."

"Yes, I just thought 'Do I look like an orc?'", Ilvì giggled, whereupon Oin reached over the table and handed her a fork. She didn't correct him, just smirked and gave him a thankful nod, while Nori laughed, about to take a sip from his jug, but he there he noticed that it was empty. Before he could get up, however, Ilvì was already standing. "Let me get that for ya. Got to stretch ms legs anyway."

Walking through the hobbit hole, with Nori's jug in her left, she put her pipe out and into her belt again, when a big hand suddenly kept her from passing another round doorframe.

"I remember your uncle rejecting the offer to join this company.", Gandalf, holding a jug as well, spoke in a low tone. "In fact, he disapproved of the whole idea, considered it to be way too risky, way too bold and dangerous..."

Ilvì felt the heat rushing to her ears, which her auburn locks hid fortunately. The heart in her chest thumped wildly, however, she managed to not let her face show any nervousness. "Well, he changed his mind.", she said with a soft smile. "For my luck, if I may say so. Do not get me wrong, of course it upsets me that he's ill, but I am so glad to be part of such an important matter."

The wizard mumbled into his beard. "That remains to be seen."

Ilvì frowned. "Don't you want me to join you?"

"Oh, quite the contrary, my dear!" He smiled at her. "As you said, it is an important matter, indeed, and in my opinion we should take every helping hand we can get." There a hiss full of anger reached their ears, making Gandalf look over his shoulder. "Excuse me, I rather check on our... host." With these words he went off and Ilvì barely heard him say: "My dear Bilbo..."

Apparently, the hobbit was grumbling over the dwarves, but Ilvì completely ignored it. She just stood there, taking a few deep breaths to collect herself. Lying was definitely not a habbit of hers, therefore it exhausted her, especially when the wizard had given her that suspicious look at the beginning of their conversation, that look that had almost cracked her façade of innocence.

It wasn't until music rang out that she started to move again.

She followed the sound of a flute and other instruments into a room, where the other dwarves piled the dishes up one after another, singing:

"_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowls_

_Pound them up with a thumping pole_

_When you're finished if they are whole_

_Send them down the hall to roll_"

Again, a smile spread over Ilvì's lips. In an instant, all bad sensations were forgotten and made way for the warm feeling of belonging.

Together with all the others, she shouted: "THAT'S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!", before laughing out loud at the sight of the hobbit's confused face, as he saw the mountains of clean dishes.

However, loud knocking made them hush immediately.

Gandalf looked up from his sitting position, the joy suddenly gone from his features. "He is here."


	4. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note: I am sorry it took so long to update. I was busy fulfilling the tasks of the qualifying examination of the university I'd like to attend and guess what? You're just reading the words of someone who got registered at The Vienna Filmacademy :D (I know it's not much yet but I'm still happy as hell ^^) Sooo here's the new chap, wherein Ilvì finally meets her hero :P_**

**_R&amp;R PLEASE!_**

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Her attempt to forge ahead was not crowned with success, especially as Dwalin had been her main opponent in the struggle for the front row. Now she was standing behind this giant of a dwarf, desperately trying to convince herself that she had allowed him and the others to pass intentionally. After all she was the newcomer here and the privilege to see everything what happens was reserved by those who'd been explicitly invited here.

When Gandalf opened the door, however, Ilvì's body reacted automatically, let her quickly rise to tiptoes and stretch her neck, begging for taking in the appearance of the last visitor, the one she had been so anxious to meet, the one she had been waiting for all evening long, the one whose call she'd followed, despite the difficulties connected to it.

"Gandalf.", she heard Thorin Oakenshield say. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all, had it not been for that mark on the door."

Bilbo, who had been standing right next to Ilvì, forced his way forward. "Mark? There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!"

Gently squeezing herself between Dwalin and Ori, she could only catch a glimpse of him, but this was already enough for her. Her mouth went dry, her knees began to buckle, so that she was forced to set the soles of her feet down to the ground once again, blocking the view of him completely due to Dwalin's stature, which was most probably for the better. She needed to calm down. In such a state she couldn't face him, by no means, that would not only be embarrassing, but also harm his respect for her. She couldn't let that happen, not after all the unpleasantries she had endured to come here. Breathe... Ilvì had to breathe and pull herself together. However, this was easier said than done.

For decades she had been dreaming of this day, the day she would meet Thorin and be at his command. She had admired him as the warrior and as the King he was, even as a child, since after all he had always fought for and kept faith with their kin. He was her hero, the rolemodel she had desperately needed when she was little. And there he was now... about 9 feet away. His long, dark hair was streaked with grey and glabella wrinkles and other lines of worry crossed his face, but his stately figure and azure blue eyes were just the same they were when Ilvì'd seen him for the very first time, long time ago.

The dizziness that had caught her at his sight slowly died down and made way for The tingling sensation of anticipation, making Ilvì smile widely. New strength in her legs she stretched out once more, trying to see what was happening right now.

Thorin was just finishing circling around the halfling, coming to a stand in front of him, a mixture of suspicion and mockery in his look, which Ilvì didn't hope to see later when he would get to her. She really wasn't sure if she found her voice then. Bilbo, however, did surprisingly well, so that the woman felt both jealous and proud of this little fellow.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know.", Bilbo responded to the question Thorin had just asked him - something about his weapon of choice, Ilvì assumed - in a prideful way, before his expression and voice changed into something more embarrassed. "But I fail to see why that's relevant..."

"I thought as much." Thorin slightly turned around to the bystanders . "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.", he said with a mocking smirk, which made the other dwarves chuckle and Ilvì was about to follow suit, however, her laugh got stuck in her throat, when she saw Dwalin stepping aside to clear the way for Thorin... who stopped dead in his tracks as he laid eyes on her thereby.

For a split second he eyed her with a look on his face, as if he was trying to remember her, while Ilvì just stood there, holding her breath. Then this expression of confusion changed into a more suspicious one, his eyes narrowed slightly in an almost hostile manner.

In hopes of loosening the tension, Ilvì finally spoke up: "It is an honour to meet you at last, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór." She bowed her head. "My name is Ilvì." Looking up again, she noticed that nothing had changed about his expression. Insecurity crept into her limbs, making her feel weak like a little girl, which made it extremely difficulties maintain the polite smile on her full lips. There had not been a single creature, if dwarf or man, male or female, that had managed to decrease her self-confidence she had worked on for ages, not in over a hundred years, but this dwarf's aura bore such an authority, his bright eyes piercing her like daggers, that she was close to shivering of fear and nervousness. In her head she begged Mahal to keep her from crying.

There Balin rescued her, as he came over to the two everyone was gaping at, even Gandalf, speaking in an intendedly joyful and casual tone: "She is the niece of Tyrad, the blacksmith, remember him?"

She gave the white-haired dwarf a thankful look, before turning back to Thorin, who was still staring at her. "I remember Tyrad. But what is _she_ doing here?"

Hearing him talk about her in such a harsh tone and, particularly, in third person although he was standing right in front of her, made the monster called fury move in its cage, but she locked it up a long time ago and wouldn't let it out now for such minor reasons like pride, especially since she was talking to her king. "My dear uncle got sick a week ago. He sends both his apologies to not be able to join this company and myself to replace him.", she answered, still smiling lightly. Ilvì avoided letting the words 'If you don't mind' to not give him any other option than to accept and if it's out of sheer politeness towards her uncle.

Thorin didn't reply anything in return, instead, kept making her feel uncomfortable by fixing her. Ilvì swallowed, looked at Balin searching for help, but the dwarf - arms akimbo - just stood there with raised brows, not daring to utter another word. Then she suddenly remembered something that might be of help and her somewhat fearful face brightened up once again. "Oh! Perhaps you did not know, but I underwent combat training, which was why my uncle-"

"Send my regards and gratitude to your uncle, but I have to turn down his offer. I cannot put this quest at risk by accepting an... outsider." His voice sounded softer than before, almost understanding and to the same extend asking for understanding, which didn't alleviate the effects they had on Ilvì. "I release you from any duty your uncle possibly has placed on you. You may leave now, Lady Ilvì, go home." There he already walked past her, addressing himself to Dwalin and the others again.

Ilvì stared after him, unable to move from the spot.

"I am sorry, lass.", she heard Balin say, before he followed Thorin.

What had just happened? 'Put this quest at risk'... Why did he think she would place the company in jeopardy? He didn't know her! He didn't even let her finish.

Finally, she could shake off the shock that had paralysed her and pushed past Gandalf, who had also followed their new guest to the dining room, muttering some apology, as she approached The one that had turned her down. "Master Thorin, please listen to me...", she began in a soft, yet urging tone, but he didn't even turn around, simply kept conversing with the others, who swiftly prepared a meal for him.

"Thor-" Her second attempt was cut short as Dori, holding a small bowl filled with some soup, gently shoved her aside and placed the bowl in front of their leader, who was now taking a seat at the table they all had eaten at earlier. "Thorin, listen..." Though, her words drowned turmoil that emerged now that all dwarves had started to gather in the room, trying to find the chairs they had left all around the hobbit hole.

Suddenly Ilvì felt someone pat her shoulder. "Pity you gotta leave. I liked ya, lass.", Bofur said. "Good luck."

"What? I'm not-" But he was already out of earshot.

Ilvì started to feel sorry for how they had treated Bilbo earlier, because being ignored although one was desperately trying to get somebody's attention was frustrating.

Letting out a deep sigh, she closed her eyes. It appeared, she wasn't welcome anymore. Perhaps, she should just follow her king's order and leave.

Ilvì took one last look around, saw that nobody paid any attention to her, nodded and turned around. At a brisk pace she marched down the hallway towards this round door she had been searching for hours, for nothing, blinking away the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. If she had to go, then with dignity.

When she was checking if all her possessions were in place at her body, she heard a rustling behind her followed by a cautious "Um...". Ilvì turned around, laying eyes on the halfling called Bilbo, who held her cloak in his hands. She didn't say a word as he helped her to put it on, avoided eye contact by all means.

"So... uh... I am sorry you have to leave...", he muttered. "But... would you be so kind as to explain, what-"

Yanking at it once and the door slammed shut behind her. She didn't want to talk anymore, she just wanted to be alone. Untying Rumples, her pony, with shivering hands, whereby it took way longer than usual, the woman wondered what to expect when she would meet her uncle again. Would he be mad at her? Or disappointed? Though, he wouldn't have to be to make her learn her lesson, Ilvì was disappointed enough in herself.

It seemed like Rumples took her dejection in, because even when she gently pushed her heels in his sides, he didn't move faster, just trudged down the way they had come earlier, looking as gloomy as the woman on his back.

She failed. The whole long journey, all the efforts, all the overcome obstacles ... for nothing. And why? Because Thorin Oakenshield, the one she had adored more than anyone else, turned out to be just as prejudiced as every male. 'Outsider'... She knew he meant her gender, because even though her mother had been of the human kind, Ilvì was a dwarf, had always been, will always be. She'd lived with Thorin's kin her whole long life long, and he didn't even grant her the respect to let her explain why having her in the company would be of advantage, because she definitely would be, she simply knew it. She would have told him about her abilities she had acquired by years-long training, her bravery she had not had the chance to give proof of yet, but was intent to do so, and so much more. But no, he didn't let her...

At one go Ilvì made Rumples stop by drawing in the reins.

Clutching her stomach, she inhaled and exhaled slowly just like her uncle had showed her, tried to prevent her anger to take over like it had so many times before, however, it didn't work quite well. With every thought, every accusation that crossed her mind, she felt it throb harder in her veins, slowly seizing her whole body.

How could those dwarves had pretended she wasn't there after she'd spend the last hour as a part of them? Just because their leader had told her to go, it didn't mean it was alright to let her down like this. And Thorin... he hadn't even deigned to look at her, who had done things she's not exactly proud of only to show up here, to help him and wasn't that what he had called for? Help? He knew damn well he couldn't make it on his own, he needed her help, dammit, and yet he'd turned her down, not giving a damn about her hard-earned skills, not giving her the respect she deserved, not deigning to look at her...

Quickly she descended from the pony, stomped the short way back to the hobbit hole, which she entered without knocking. When she reached the passage from the hallway to the dining room, she fixed Thorin with her fury-filled eyes. "YOU WILL LOOK AT ME NOW AND LISTEN!"

Silence.

Everyone stared at her, as if she'd addressed them, and even the one she had actually yelled at slowly turned to her, folding his arms. This time Thorin's cold expression had no effect on Ilvì. She was boiling with rage, expanding her nostrils with every deep breath she took.

For a moment her heavy breathing was the only audible sound, then, hissing, she raised her voice again: "I have the right to be part of this quest. More than most of this company. You tell me to go home? Well then, I must insist to join you. Why?" Her tone became softer, but not less serious. "Because Erebor _is_ my home. I lived there. I was there when the dragon's fire filled our halls... taking my father Nyrad from me." Ilvì's voice trembled, showing how deeply this topic affected her, before she pointed at Thorin. "You knew my father, Thráin's son. You were the one to break his fate to my family." Ilvì closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, before her expression got stern again. "Smaug nestled there far too long. I want our mountain, our home, back. And I deserve a chance to help you achieving that. I have the _right_ to join you here. I, have, the_ right_. Because just like you I am part of Durin's Folk and, by Mahal, I will fight to the end to reclaim what's ours!"

There was a sparkle in the eyes of the dwarves, implying that her speech had taken quite an effect on them and Ilvì was sure that they would cheer now, however, they preferred to stay quiet and wait for their leader's reaction. And there was something in Thorin's look as well - Ilvì couldn't tell what it was exactly - that showed her that her words had not simply passed by him.

"Indeed,", he finally said, his deep voice cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. "I knew your father, Ilvì, daughter of Nyrad." There his features softened a bit. "And I am glad to see that his memory is still honoured after all those years." Thorin paused, eyed the woman in front of him once more. "I will consider your offer to join us. Until my decision is made, you are allowed to stay with us."

A cheer went through the hobbit hole, so that Ilvì's sigh of relief went unheeded. She gave Thorin an acknowledging nod, before clearing her throat, making the dwarves fall silent again. "Now that this is settled..." She pointed at Gandalf to her right, kneeling next to a seemingly unconsicious Bilbo. "... would somebody explain this to me? Because I think I just lost a bet."


End file.
